Help me or her?
by Lovez Desire
Summary: She was always a girl who follows orders, but come real; everyone breaks the perfect daughter image once in their life. Maybe a Semi?. Who knows. A homework fiction,didn't plan on do it novel but ... when do my stories end as I planned them to? Enjoy (: A Faith/Rosie maybe? Dunno. I like to think this as a Selena/Demi


**HELP ME ... OR HER?**

_First of all, I want to thank to this girl, MileyJakes; yeah I think it's also her FF name, anyway, if you're reading this, I really do appreciate your support for the story since it was up on YT, you already know the beginning so ... anyway. Hope you like it, along with all of you guys (:_

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_This was written because of a school homework and I decided on let you read it and letting me know what you think about it._

_It wasn't originally a Semi fiction, but since it's FF and I do have to add a created character, I added my Spring Breaker's favourite character, guess who? :3 Jaa ... ANYWAY!. I'm not planning on doing another chapter, this was just a One-Shot for a 100 on my grades chart. But if you guys want me to,I will be glad to make a novel for this, for you guys._

_Well ... Hope you like it ;)_

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Sometimes you don't even know if you can trust your shadow.

When you think that everything is going to turn out well, destiny laughs at your ingenuity to destroy you in any possible way.

I thought I could trust on my own blood, on that person that, now I know, pretended interest on my well being. I don't know why I thought that though, I grew up with that idea, that that was pure love, the only real one; I guess it is not always like that.

There he was, sitting on that old chair that seemed to have my grandfather's age, looking at me, thoughtful. It had been a week since I couldn't see any expression on his face. She, on the other side, always cried. Sometimes I listened to her sobbing while watching her novels on TV; that meant nothing good.

Tired, bothered, desperate, I went out that insane asylum which just one year ago I used to call my home. It was the first time I did that and seeing no reaction I thought to myself why the heck I hadn't done it before, but then again, maybe it was just the tension which paralyzed them.

I closed the door behind me, my keys making a small sound when they fell into my pocket.

Without direction, that's how I found myself, without direction. It had been a lot since I hadn't felt like that, last time I did, it cost me three noticeable scars on my wrists, just above my wristbands and a pair of lashes with leather.

When I arrived to the corner of the street. Like if it was a signal, the cold air brushed my face and the need of my best friend's hug made me direct myself a block left and five more to the front; the same path I use to take every Tuesday and Thursday that I get home with her.

Two blocks after had taken my course I noticed a black TIDA moving along my steps.

If there was something productive that the people who I am running from taught me, it was to keep calm when I find myself between coincidence and risk.

I tried to see who the driver was from the corner of my eye, but the windows were polarized, it was impossible for me to recognize any face without being obvious.

I turned back to my direction and before I could cross to the next block, my view went off, a pair of arms pulled me up to what I thought, was the same person's shoulder.

Naturally, I screamed, though it was stupid. Less than a minute later I felt my head crash with something rough and the smell of new car invaded my nose before I lost my knowledge . . .

It's twelve at midnight and I am still tied down to a bed. Everything that surrounded me were black walls, just that, except for a grey door on my left side.

Wait, that was the only thing I could do, wait. It had been two hours since I had the opportunity of sending a message to my best friend; by any strange reason, m y cell phone was still in my right pocket when I woke up and for a brief moment I thought it was a trick, but there wasn't any other choice.

When I arrived to the dark room, I immediately hided the cell phone under the dirty pillow where my head is resting now. After five minutes one of them entered the room to find me in shock, I may have had acted fast but that didn't decreased my fear.

I always thought people that do this kind of stuff do not have a respectable physic, that's why when I looked up to look at her, I felt my jaw lose its friction, and for whatever reason, I felt even more fear.

I observed her while she carried a tray with what seemed a glass with water and a piece of toast. Suddenly I felt like being in a hospital, eating for the first time after having received five stitches on my abs.

She looked up at me, our eyes locked. Shame, that is the only thing that I saw in her eyes. Shame of be doing what she was doing, and for a moment I felt lacerate. If she really regret doing this, why does she do it? . . .

It has been less than two minutes after practically had read her soul, when the pillow made a weird sound. – Holly Shit – I thought, the vibrating mode wasn't enough to hid the gadget.

Her gaze focused on the piece of feather cloth and I felt like hours passed in which I bit my lower lip, waiting for her next move, observing her deep thoughtful look.

She sighed and looked back to the door just to return her gaze and slowly, shoved the key inside the handcuff lock. I couldn't believe what my eyes were seeing, it was merely impossible.

When finally my four extremities were free, a hard thump was heard from outside the room, followed by a shoot. I looked to the door and before I could do, or even think anything, the body of the girl who set me free was falling down my legs and to the old wooden floor.

I felt a warm on my arm; it squeezed me softly while my feet moved by instinct because of the insistent pull from the hand that holds my wrist.

I blinked slowly, and it was that moment in which I realized there was wetness on my eyelashes, and little by little, a drop of salty water started to run down my cheek; burning it in the process.

I couldn't stop watching her, and maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't have been too bitter the gulp of saliva that I naturally swallowed, if her eyes wouldn't have been looking directly at mine; lost, but at the same time focused on letting me know that she was really sorry.

The need of carry her in my arms and take her with me to where, probably, someone will be waiting for me accompanied by a pair of blue and red annoying lights going on and off, was almost excruciating. But it wasn't possible; my body barely could differ between cold and hot.

I crossed the old door with an arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me towards the outsides of that perfectly designed for any person with mental problems could be isolated, old cabana.

A gun, an envelope with what looked like white powder and a bottle of Douglas Longside, were a few of the lots of objects that had been placed above a colorless table striped by, what seemed, a needle. Names of people marked and remarked, followed by a tick, like if the nest person who saw it would have decided that the name had been well written.

_- Faith Bennett -_ announced a feminine voice that was quickly coming out behind, who now I recognized; mi best friend, and me. _– She was reported lost two weeks ago, brunette, nineteen years old. Her parents said she didn't arrived home when they waited for her at four o'clock of April ninth's afternoon –_ there was no doubt now, those brown eyes were saying the truth since the moment in which her body entered the old and creepy room.

_- He abducted her and kept her for three days in the same room, until the fifth day, the same day in which he forced her to start watching the second victim. We'll take her to the ambulance, then she must go with us to the delegation –_ and with that she walked away, leaving her partner taking notes of the information given.

I looked at the cop and back again to the principal entrance of the cabana. Her body looked just like mine felt a few minutes ago. They placed her over a litter, her chest wrapped by a bandage which didn't have any white space left.

_- She will be okay –_ whispered the voice I recognize now since two years ago anywhere.

She knew me so well; my eyes could never lie to her. The worry for that soul in conflict was eating me alive and I knew she could notice it.

After this night, the desire of going back to that insane asylum was at the minimum, and for any weir reason, that cabana seemed more comfortable for me, a better place. Then again, any place was better than that.

The back door closed and the sirens began to sound . . .


End file.
